Demonic Darling
by Marion Hood
Summary: Demons could love. They just chose not to. Just like they could have daughters if they wanted.
1. Chapter 1

Crowley wasn't a normal demon. Most demons lacked the conniving, treacherous taint of _humanity_ that Crowley still carried around with him. It was what made him so good at his job. Besides, whoever said demons lacked the ability to love had evidently never actually talked to one. Demons were callous, cruel, vicious...evil even. But they _were_ the children of Lucifer, an angel whose only real crime, it could be argued, was loving his Father too much.

Demons could love.

They just _chose_ not to.

* * *

"Daddy?"

The little girl twisted the letter in between her fingers as her father combed her hair.

"Will I be okay at Hogwarts?"

Crowley sighed and laid down the brush he'd been using to try and tame her hair. Much like her spirit it rebelled against any form of conformity. He couldn't help but approve.

"You'll be fine, princess."

"What if people don't like me?" She asked quietly.

There was a pause as Crowley remembered all the times he'd come home to find his daughter sobbing because of some bully. Or because of Lilith, who was really the Queen of Bitches had taken the day's frustration out on her. She had reason to believe people wouldn't like her.

"I'm sure they will, sweetheart. I like you and I don't like anyone." He promised, ever the salesman.

She giggled and smiled up at him angelically.

* * *

When she came home after her first year he wasn't Daddy anymore. His little girl had grown up in the ten months since he'd last seen her. She'd recognised him despite the meat suit he'd been using to pick her up from the train station and run straight for him, leaving two bemused boys in her wake. Something had happened. He could see it instantly. There was a look in her eyes he didn't like, as though someone had shown her the darker side of reality. Which, for the daughter of a demon, was saying something.

* * *

The second year her letters stopped after Christmas. He told himself not to worry, that she was off having adventures with her friends. She'd simply forgotten about him.

"They wouldn't write to you." She told him, brown eyes wide. "They think I'm muggleborn and the school rules say that they don't have to notify muggles in the event of a magical accident. I'm sorry Dad. I'll be more careful."

Crowley had taken his rage out on the next unwitting crossroad demon to step out of line. She'd been in a coma for _months_ and no one thought he was important enough to tell?

Flesh would burn for this.

* * *

Third year wasn't as bad. He suspected that his heart might give out (if he had one) when she told him about riding a bloody Hippogryph. At least she hadn't been running from werewolves, he told himself, filing another contract.

* * *

Crowley tucked the moving picture of Hermione and her friends dressed up to the nines for their school dance into his pocket and scowled at her.

"Why do they want you to go to this secret hideout anyway?" He demanded.

"To keep me safe." She mumbled, not looking at him. This was probably because his eyes were red and, after spending so long with humans, she found the sight slightly unsettling.

"Safe from _what_ exactly?" Crowley growled.

"Does it matter?" She asked innocently.

Crowley prayed to Lucifer for patience. She was his daughter through tenacity and stubbornness alone, if nothing else.

"Yes, lass, it matters."

Hermione sat at the foot of her bed and sighed, tapping the toes of her trainers together.

"There may, _may_ , be a Dark Lord on the loose in Britain who may or _may not_ , want Harry dead."

"And that has what to do with you?" Crowley demanded.

"I'm Harry's friend..."

"And that places you in the firing line." He sighed. It was what he would do. Can't fault a Dark Lord for being thorough. "Can't you just stop talking to this boy? Or we could send you to a different school?"

Hermione gave him a wide-eyed look of horror.

"Dad!" She said reproachfully. "Of course not. Harry's my friend. He needs me!"

Crowley scowled.

"Don't they think I can keep you safe?" He complained.

"Dad, they think you're a muggle." She smiled gently, knowing she had won. He couldn't say no without drawing attention to her and that was the last thing they wanted. They'd take one look at her parentage and either run her through or steal his daughter away. A daughter he'd barely seen since she'd started school.

"Fine."

* * *

That year his daughter came home with a scar on her chest, a trunk full of healing potions and fear in her eyes.

* * *

"Why can't you be normal?" He demanded, watching her pack.

Again.

She was always packing.

"Where'd this sense of obligation come from?" He insisted, resisting the urge to tear at his hair. "Because it wasn't from me!"

"By normal, do you mean demon normal?" She asked calmly, folding her clothes. He didn't like the shadows under her eyes. Or the fact that she now looked more like a woman than a little girl. It felt like she'd changed in the space of a blink.

"Obviously. Sometimes I wonder if your mother wasn't an angel." He shuddered in repulsion. "It's just not natural. You're the Princess of the Crossroads."

"Only you call me that." She pointed out, stacking her books neatly.

"My point stands, sweetheart."

Hermione gave him an exasperated look.

"Fine."

She snapped her fingers and her trunk packed itself.

"Happy?"

He hummed approvingly.

"Very. Your telekinesis is improving."

"Mmm. I hate doing that." Hermione closed the lid of her trunk on her perfectly stacked belongings. "Why?" He asked, curious as he was with everything to do with her.

"I always end up with considerably more black clothing then I started with." She pouted slightly.

He laughed.

"Demonic rebellion, darling. Nothing better."

* * *

"You're not staying." He stated quietly, setting himself down beside her.

She looked torn.

"Harry needs me. They'll probably die if I'm not there. It's just...I'm going into a bloody war. I'm nearly eighteen but I'm just... I'm scared, Daddy."

He sighed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"I can't talk you out of this, can I?"

She laughed weakly.

"You know your sales pitches don't work for me. Besides...they need me."

"Yeah, you said." He considered telling her that _he_ needed her, couldn't cope with the idea of losing her. "If you need me, anything at all, I will move armies to get to you."

Hermione sighed quietly, unwilling to leave the shelter of his home.

"I know, Dad."

* * *

The next time he saw her, she'd collapsed onto the marble floor of their manor home, thin, exhausted and broken. He carried her to her bed himself, summoning the house demons to watch over her. When he saw the scar on her arm, the bellow of rage rattled through hell until it reached the soul of Bellatrix Lestrange who shivered in fear.

* * *

"I want to go to school." She said one morning over breakfast.

They've moved to America and, at his request, she'd cut all ties with Wizarding Britain. It meant she was safer and there is less chance of someone finding out that the King of the Crossroad's daughter is a pioneering war hero for the _light_. If Lilith found out...Didn't bear thinking about. She barely tolerated Hermione as it was.

"We tried school." He pointed out, sipping his scotch. "You remember how that turned out."

"We tried it in Britain." She set down her knife and fork and leaned towards him. "I would like..."  
 _Why can't she just demand things like a normal person?_ He thought to himself.

"To attend University. As a muggle."

"In America?" He queried.

"Obviously."

Good. At least he can keep an eye on her there. Which she had probably taken into account already. When did she get so good a negotiating?

"On two conditions. You need to learn possession."

Her shoulders drooped.

"Do I have to?" She complained.

He spluttered.

"It's a demonic write of passage. Like learning to drive! Everyone does it. I don't understand where this...hesitation came from. You're a demon!"

Hermione scowled. "I might not even be able to do it." She pointed out hopefully. He chuckled into his whiskey.

"Yeah...right. And you take that bloody monster with you."

Hermione scratched behind the cat's ears. Crowley's not sure _how_ a hell-cat found his daughter, he's just glad that it did. Even if the thing is pure evil.

* * *

Crowley can't decide what's funnier.

That his daughter is masquerading as a human or that she's studying theology.

* * *

Because of the large demon protection contingent at Stanford, Crowley knows the instant Sam Winchester appears on campus. He leaves him be. Hermione doesn't approve of hurting innocents and there'd be hell to pay if she found out. The last thing he needs is a furious witch on his hands. It's just as well that she graduates and moves to New York for her doctorate years before Azazel shows up on site.

If he has his way, she'll never be anywhere near the Winchesters and that shit show ever again.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was complaining about something, Sam wasn't honestly listening, too busy flicking through the settings on his phone. A quiet gasp from nearby and he jerked his head up to find an incredibly familiar set of brown eyes staring at him from the nearby sidewalk. She looks older, dressed comfortably as always, she had always taken to old jumpers in the same way that Dean had taken to leather jackets.

"Hermione?" Sam called, pushing off of the Impala. It's been years since he'd last seen her, she'd moved to the east coast and never kept in touch. Which is a shame, because of all the people from Sam's time at Stanford, she's one of the few he genuinely missed. "It's me."

She stepped backward, winced and then started twisting her hands in front of her, looking unusually nervous.

"Hi, Sam." She said weakly, her English accent as out of place here in Iowa as it had ever been in California.

"Who's this?" Dean demanded, looking up from Dad's journal.

Sam grimaced at her in apology.

"This is Hermione." He introduced, waving at her. "Hermione MacLeod. She was my tutor at Stanford. Incredibly smart, like seriously..." He trailed off for a second, before remembering. "This is my big brother, Dean, by the way."

"Pleasure." She said coolly, looking Dean over with narrowed eyes. He'd forgotten that about her. She'd never been taken in by pretty faces and Dean's charming smile wasn't going to work either.

"How've you been?" He asked, smiling properly for the first time in a long time. Hermione grimaced in response and he eyed her thoughtfully. She looked like she was preparing to run. Did she look...scared of him?

A passerby knocked into her shoulder and Hermione glanced into their face, paled and nodded once. The stranger kept walking.

"Er fine, Sam. It's great to see you, honestly. But...I've got to go." She backed away from them. Sam watched her go with a puzzled look until she vanished around the corner. She didn't look back as he called after her.

* * *

"What were you doing near the Winchesters?" He demanded. Hermione sighed heavily, leaning against her kitchen table, phone pressed to her ear. She'd known answering this call would be a mistake.

"I wasn't." She defended calmly. "I just ran into Sam." She'd fled as soon as one of her watch demons had given her a warning. Clearly, Hell had it out for those brothers and she wasn't about to hang around and find out why. "How do you know who they are anyway?" This was mostly a rhetorical question, her father knew everything that went on in Hell.

"You just _ran_ into Sam Winchester? Please tell me his brother didn't see you?"

"Would that be Dean?" She asked innocently. "Tall, short hair..."

Static raced across the phone line as her father cursed in corrupted Enochian.

"Language." She said reprovingly.

"They're hunters, princess." Crowley spat.

She froze, dropping the priceless book she'd been holding. She winced when it thunked against the floor and opened.

"But Sam wouldn't…" Hermione's mind raced as she tried to reconcile the young man she'd known with a deadly hunter, the likes of which had haunted her bedtime stories as a child. "He's harmless...He's..."

"Taken out twelve monsters in the last month and that isn't even his record high." Crowley snapped at her. She picked up the book.

"No wonder his Latin was so good." She muttered, soothing the cracked leather spine with her fingertip.

"How do you know that?" Her father asked suspiciously.

"I used to tutor him at school..." She admitted quietly.

"YOU DID WHAT!"

The phone crackled as Crowley appeared beside her, evidently straining to keep his temper under control.

"I knew it!" He yelled, pacing. "I should have killed that _giraffe_ the day he turned up on your campus."

Hermione gave a long-suffering sigh and hung up.

"You can't just kill people just for knowing me." She pointed out.

Crowley went red and gaped like a fish.

"I beg to differ." He hissed and vanished.

* * *

Crowley stared at the contract on his desk. John Winchester had offered his soul for the safety of his son. Well, Crowley wasn't going to say no.

After all, it wasn't like he didn't understand loving your children.

* * *

Hermione sighed unhappily as the terrified woman sobbed down the phoneline begging an apathetic man for help. Dean Winchester must really hate her to be so unaffected. Hermione watched the hellhounds circle, clawing at the door and snarling loudly. She made a conscious effort not to listen in on the information about Lilith that she was telling Dean, listening to Crookshanks loud rumbling purr in her ear. He was draped across her shoulders, scarred face resting contentedly against her cheek. There was such a thing as too much information, something Hermione had learned the hard way.

The woman hung up and Hermione apparated into the room. Crookshanks leaped off her shoulder as they landed and stood in front of the door where the Hounds had managed to claw through.

He washed a paw and the Hounds, whimpered concerned by this strange creature.

Content that there was no immediate danger, Hermione crouched down in front of Bela Talbot. Her face was streaked with tears and she stared up at her with confusion.

"Who're you?" She demanded, furiously.

Hermione chuckled.

"My name's Hermione. I'm here to help, in a way."

Bela sniffled, scrubbing at her face with one hand.

"What?"

"You," Hermione explained carefully and slightly apologetically. "Are my birthday present. Dad never knows what to get me and I happened to hear about you, demonic grapevine being what it is, and thought this might be an opportunity to do some good."

"You're a demon?" Bela demanded incredulously.

"I'm your new employer." Hermione corrected. She offered her a hand which Bela accepted and lifted the woman to her feet.

"But...my contract?"

Hermione shrugged. "There is always room for contract negotiation and I happen to have a lot of talent with the law. I had your contract passed over to me and changed the wording a bit. Now you work for me."

"Doing what?" Bela seemed to be regaining her composure and she glared at Hermione shrewdly.

"Oh, mostly rare book conservation." Hermione hummed. "I have an idea for a new library collection. How's your Sumerian?" She clicked her fingers and Crookshanks hopped up onto her shoulders. She wrapped an arm around Bela. "But for right now...I want you to tell me everything you know about the Winchesters."

* * *

It took years for Hermione to run into Sam again. It was entirely by accident if anything she'd been making an effort to stay away from anywhere he'd seemed likely to be. She wasn't sure that she'd be able to lie convincingly enough when she had to ask where Dean was. She knew where he was. Dean was in the pit. Her father wouldn't stop gloating about it.

But run into Sam she did. On the outskirts of Washington DC, down the road from a rare occult bookseller who Hermione occasionally did business with. There was something wrong with the younger Winchester though. Something...well if she didn't know any better, she'd say demonic. It called out to the darker part of her, the part she spent so much time trying to repress.

"Sam?" She asked uncertainly.

"Hey, Hermione." He gave her a half-hearted smile. He seemed to have grown again, in muscle mass if nothing else. He towered over her small frame.

"What are you doing in Washington?" She asked gently, well aware he was about to lie to her.

"Visiting family." And there it was. As far as anyone knew, Sam didn't have any other family.

Hermione frowned and blinked.

And then she blinked again, finally pinpointing what had been bothering her.

"Oh, Sam." She breathed, horrified.

"What?" He demanded, leaping to his feet. "What's wrong?"

She gave a hollow laugh and spotted the demon walking towards them. A demon Hermione was awfully familiar with.

"Do you know what she's doing to you?" She demanded in a hushed whisper, gripping Sam's arm tightly.

Sam frowned down at her, alarmed.  
"What? Who?"

Ruby reached them, eyeing Hermione with something between mistrust and hatred.

"MacLeod." She drawled.

"Excuse me," Hermione replied coolly. She refused to admit that she knew the demon, although whether Ruby would out her to Sam was another matter entirely.

"Come on, Sam." Ruby tugged the hunter away. Sam was looking between the two of them with a frown, trying to put the pieces together.

"It won't work." She called after them. Ruby froze. "You'd have better luck trying to corrupt an angel."

Hermione left before Ruby tried to kill her.

She just hoped she was right.

* * *

"Are you actually going to take a side in all this?" Bela asked.

Hermione looked at her over the mystery novel she was reading and arched one eyebrow.

"In all what?" She inquired.

Bela rolled her eyes gracefully. Much to Hermione's eternal annoyance, everything Bela did was graceful.

"Oh, you know. The end of the world."

Hermione hummed, considering the question. Her eyes caught on the calendar and she realised she'd have to send Harry's birthday card soon. He'd get upset if he didn't hear from her.

"I don't know yet." She decided.

Well, that wasn't true. Hermione knew where she stood. Not with Hell and not with Heaven. As a witch she stood with the Earth. Which meant she spent a lot of time worrying about the Winchesters and wondering if she should interfere. Or maybe send Sam some helpful books on addiction.

* * *

"Ah." _Shit_ , she added silently.

"Hermione?" Sam asked, stepping towards her. Dean grabbed his shoulder to hold him back. "We're in the wrong house?" He suggested weakly.

"Or we're not and that's Crowley wearing your hot teacher as a meat suit."

Hermione winced, wishing she'd _not_ chosen today to visit her father. Bela was going to laugh herself silly when she heard about this.

"Tutor, actually. And only for one semester." She sighed and settled herself onto the rug with the demon trap to wait, trying to tune out Sam's demands that Crowley "Get the hell out of her" and the gun that Dean had pointed at her head. It wouldn't be long until her father arrived.

"It's time you two knuckleheads showed up...Hermione, what are you doing here?" He asked, looking unusually surprised.

"Hi, Dad. I came to visit. Bad timing apparently." She smiled benignly, trying to look as harmless as possible.

Her father's eyes narrowed with malice as he stared at the Winchesters.

"Did they hurt you, princess?"

"I'm fine." She murmured, picking at the loose threads in the rug.

Dean spluttered.

"Wait. Princess?"

Crowley sighed.

"I'm the King of Hell. Formerly the King of the Crossroads. Lots of titles with "King" in them. Makes my _daughter_ a princess." He glared at them. "I'm assuming you're here for the Colt."

"Hang on. You're _his_ daughter?" Sam stared at her in disbelief. "And you were studying theology?"

"It was a legitimate degree!" She protested, glaring at him. "And yes. I am."

"Legitimate for someone who wasn't a biblical creation. " Crowley muttered, earning himself a dark glare from his daughter. "You sure they didn't hurt you, darling?"

"I'm fine." Hermione sighed. "They thought I was a meat suit."

Dean finally closed his mouth.

"You have a daughter?" He said eventually, apparently bewildered.

Hermione waved at him and got to her feet, stepping off the rug. She turned it over to show the Devil's Trap someone had spray painted onto it.

"Who apparently isn't a demon," Sam added, making the face both Hermione and Dean knew too well. Sam hated things that didn't apply to the normal rules.

She laughed at him, wandering back to her father.

"I'm not even evil." She added carefully, eyes on Sam. He stared at her warily, looking betrayed.

"Bit of a disappointment on that front really," Crowley grumbled. "She won't kill or cheat... a truly terrible liar. I blame her mother of course."

"You usually do." She murmured.

He shrugged as if to say " _What can you do?"_

"Do I need to be here?" Hermione asked, eyeing the Winchesters warily.

"Probably best if you weren't, darling."

She vanished with a crack, earning a groan from her father.

"I keep thinking it's a phase." He said, mostly to himself. "All this for the good of mankind stuff. Keep thinking she'll bring home a head or something one day. Still back to business..."

* * *

Hermione spent the next few days on tenterhooks waiting to hear if the Winchesters' had been successful in managing to kill Lucifer.

The only word she got was a message from her father, delivered by email. One word.

RUN!


	3. Chapter 3

"Sam's not coming," Crowley ordered. The Demon King's safehouse was little more than a shack and the dingy lighting made the demon look pallid and scared.

"And why the hell not?" Sam demanded, glowering at him.

The King of Hell appeared to choke on the next words.

"Because I need him." He bit out, looking furious.

"To do what?" Dean asked cautiously.

"They ate my tailor!" He reiterated, wide-eyed. "Can you imagine what they are going to do to my daughter? She's been on the run for months!"

"Hermione..." Sam breathed, horrified despite the annoyed look Dean sent him. He'd been doing his best not to think about her, about how she's _somehow_ the daughter of the most annoying demon Sam's ever met. About how this Apocalypse must be affecting her too.

Crowley snapped his fingers, and Hermione appeared mid-sprint. She whirled, staring at them each, in turn, a knife in one hand and a stick in the other.

"Dad?" She gasped, catching her breath. She was dirty and looked exhausted, skin pale and bruised with a chronic lack of sleep. Sam couldn't help the gasp of concern he let out, which no one but Dean seemed to notice.

"Hello, darling." Crowley seemed visibly relieved. "Listen I need to go off with Dean for a bit, you know, save the world. I need _you_ to stay here with Moose."

"What? Why?" Hermione snapped, rapidly getting her breath back.

Sam became aware that she was bleeding. A long solid cut, dripping down the side of her face. Crowley visibly flinched.

"How close did they get?" He breathed, stepping towards her and offering her a handkerchief from his pocket. She took it gratefully and pressed it against the cut, apparently unconcerned by the presence of him and Dean.

"Close enough." Hermione seemed to crumple for a moment and Crowley… Sam didn't think he'd ever seen a demon look so _human_ before. "But I'm not staying here." She added, looking around the dingy house with a disapproving glare.

Crowley rolled his eyes.

"Your damn mother." He complained and snapped his fingers. A solid gold medallion on a red ribbon appeared. Hermione glowered at him.

"Oh come on. Dad, I'm not three anymore..."

Crowley handed it to Sam who took it automatically. He almost dropped it when Hermione transferred her glare to him.

"This is her binding medallion," Crowley explained. "She can't go anywhere you don't go. We're leaving."

Dean gave his brother an unhappy shrug, but followed the demon out the door, leaving Sam and Hermione alone.

Sam swore as Hermione screamed in rage, an unearthly sound which shattered some of the window panes as the Impala pulled away.

"That bastard." She hissed. Sam wasn't sure if she was talking about Dean or Crowley and wasn't sure he wanted to ask.

"Mmm." He said instead.

"I'm mad at you too." She added vindictively. She glanced around the house, looking somewhat disgusted. "I am _not_ staying here."

Sam laughed nervously.

"I thought you couldn't go anywhere I didn't go."

She grabbed his hand.

"Which why I'm taking you with me. Come along, Sam."

* * *

Sam clutched his knees as a bout of nausea overcame him. He glanced up and reeled backward, looking at the surroundings. They were somewhere different. Somewhere _really_ different, they had to be on the west coast, the sun was still setting here.

"Where are we?" He asked, staring around the parking lot. Hermione smiled, wiping the blood from her face with the handkerchief and grimacing at the state of the linen.

"Diner." She explained shortly. "I've been on the run, Sam. I'm starving."

"Aren't I supposed to protect you?" Sam complained, reaching out to hold her wrist. She grimaced, but took his hand anyway, leading the way to the roadside diner.

"Sam, they'll find me wherever I am. I'm just as safe here as I am anywhere." She grumbled. "But on the plus side...Here, they have tea. And a bathroom I can clean up in."

Sam rolled his eyes and followed her into the diner, trying to ignore just how well her jeans fit her.

"You've changed." He said as they sat down. "Since college, I mean."

Hermione eyed him curiously, dabbing at the blood on her face but this time with a clean napkin.

"So have you." She winced. "For example at college, neither of us knew who the other was."

He scoffed.

"Yeah, right."

"Still got that anger problem, I see." She eyed him warily and Sam flushed, ashamed. "I swear to you, Sam. I didn't know who you were." A slight smile curled the corner of her mouth. "I really was just trying to tutor you in Advanced Mathematics."

Sam stared at her. The reason she'd never even pinged his supernatural radar at Stanford (when he knew for a fact he'd been sharing a dorm building with at least two monsters) was that she had been so completely normal. Gone to boarding school in England, moved here for college, excelled academically. Had almost no friends but tutored anyone who needed it. He'd seen her pick up books for people, hold doors open, talk kindly to small children and old women alike. Had been generally un-demonic. Even now, when he knows she's Crowley's daughter and she's sitting there filthy and bloody, he doesn't have the urge to draw a blade on her.

But then he slept with Ruby so what does he know.

"For what it's worth," She added cautiously, eyes wide with empathy. "I am really sorry about Jess."

It had been years since anyone had brought her up in conversation and the pain hasn't dulled at all. But he shrugged and offered her a small smile as an unspoken peace offering.

"Wasn't your fault." He paused. "Was it?"

Hermione reared backward from the table.

"Oh, Merlin. No. There was a demon contingent on campus but they were there to protect me, not to hurt you. That was all Azazel's doing. Besides I had graduated by that point." She sighed. "I liked Jess." She added. "She was a lovely girl. You two were good together."

He nodded.

"What can I get cha?"

Hermione beamed up at the waitress, a tired forty-something who'd done maybe one too many night shifts to be truly pleased to see them.

"I'll have tea, in a pot if you have it. Cheeseburger, salad, chips...fries." she corrected, wincing. "Sam?"

He'd forgotten what an amusing experience it was watching her order food was. She'd gotten no end of teasing from the baristas at the coffee shops where they'd met up for being overly "British".

He ordered the same. He figured he might as well eat while he can and the waitress left. Hermione shrugged off her leather jacket, removing a battered beaded bag which Sam can remember from college, from around her shoulders.

"How have you been?" She asked seriously. "You look exhausted."

"Thanks. I could say the same."

She laughed and rested her head in her hands.

"What do you want to know?" She said, at last, looking up at him.

Sam sighed.

"Who says I want anything to do with you?" It was a fair point he felt. The world was ending, there was kinda a limit to what he could deal with at the moment.

"Sam, we used to be friends." Hermione insisted reproachfully. "Admittedly there are things I didn't tell you..."

"Like you being half demon?" He demanded.

She groaned.

"Well...yes."

"How'd that work anyway?" Sam asked, helplessly curious.

She peered at him through her fingers.

"Do you want the general overview? Because anything more in depth may cause me to vomit."

"What?" Sam screwed up his face. "Oh, ewww."

She sat up and smirked, finger-combing her hair away from her face.

"My father...in one of his stranger moments went home with a sorceress. Of course, he thought she was human and she thought the same, so neither of them made a big deal out of it. She worked it out in the morning and ran screaming."

"Smart woman," Sam grumbled. Hermione frowned at him for interrupting.

"Anyway...There was a war going on and she was on the losing side. Death Eaters...bad people...were wiping her kind from existence. So when I was born she did the best thing she could think of to keep me safe. She summoned my father and hoped he'd be kind enough not to kill me."

"And he didn't?" Sam asked incredulously.

"I was an adorable baby." She defended. "My father has his sins." Sam scoffed. " _One_ of the greatest was the way he treated his son as a human. I think he regretted it. Maybe. I'm not sure. But he took me in. Raised me."

"So you're a Cambion?"

Hermione screwed her face up in disgust.

"I'm nothing like those...Thanks." She sat back to accept the plate of food and the conversation was halted for a while as she ate.

"My mother was a sorceress..." She said, half a plate of food later.

"Witch?"

She glared at him.

"No." She said coldly. Sam shivered. "Not like that. Anyway, her heritage, bloodline or whatever, proved to be stronger than my fathers. I got some of his demonic traits..." Her eyes flickered black for a second, causing him to jump. "Basic telekinesis and the like, but my magic is stronger. I am unique." She bit into her burger and watched him think.

"So you're not evil?" He asked cautiously.

She gave an exaggerated sigh.

"For the last time...no. I'm not."

"Huh."

They watched each other warily for a while.

"You're not the same as you were at Stanford." She said again.

"Neither are you."

She sipped her tea and nodded.

"No, I suppose I'm not."

* * *

"Why were you at Stanford?" Sam asked as they waited for the all-clear from Dean. It had been a few hours but Hermione didn't seem worried.

"Same reason as you, I suppose." She wrinkled her nose. "I wanted to be normal. I wanted to learn things. I wanted friends who weren't contractually obligated to protect me."

"You didn't have many friends at college," Sam said cautiously.

"No," She admittedly, "No I didn't. But honestly, Sam, explain to me how I am supposed to get to know someone when I have to hide both sides of my nature. I have friends out there in the world, magic users like me. And none of them have the faintest idea who my father is or _what_ I am. That was hard enough." She sighed. "Hiding both parts of me...Doesn't leave a lot of room for close personal connections. And you try dating when your father has a roving band of demonic protection watching you at all hours. It's not exactly easy."

Sam stared at her.

"Your da...Crowley knew that we knew each other?"

"Surprisingly, that managed to slip by him." She grinned. "It's good to know I was able to give demons the slip even then."

Sam stirred his coffee thoughtfully.

"Where do you stand in all this?" He asked. "Because you're not with Lucifer…"

"His plan to exterminate all demons does concern me, yes."

He frowned at her.

"But what about Heaven?"

She smirked.

"You're asking if I'm on the side of the angels? Sam, I'm good. I'm not _that_ good. Besides the angel's don't want what's best for the earth. They want to win their war. Winning wars cost lives. I'm not on their side either."

"So…"

"Oh, honestly Sam. I'm on your side." She gripped his hand tightly and looked at him across the table. "I'm pretty sure you and Dean will win this for humanity, but if you two need anything that I can help with…"

"I have a list…" Sam deadpanned.

She stared at him seriously, already looking much better for having had a chance to sit down and eat and drink.

"I've got to be careful, Sam." She insisted. "I've got the weight of my entire civilization on my back. If I draw too much attention to myself people are going to start wondering why Crowley's daughter is quite so powerful. I cannot bring that down on my people."

Sam blinked rapidly, looking away from those deep brown eyes.

"Right." He managed. An awful thought occurred to him and he sighed as his mood plummeted. "I'm glad I got a chance to see you." He murmured. "Before we go up against Lucifer."

He hissed as she sank her fingernails into his hand and looked up to find her glowering at him furiously.

"I know that look!" She snarled, scowling at him. "Whatever it is you're planning, Sam, don't you dare…"

Sam wrenched his hand away to answer his phone.

"Dean!" He gasped, relieved and shying away from the sheer fury Hermione was radiating.

"Head back Sammy, where the hell are you two anyway?"

"Yeah, sure." He hung and up and rummaged in his pocket for some cash to throw down on the table. "We gotta go."

Hermione waited until they were out of sight of the diner before she bamphed them back to the shack. Sam staggered when they arrived and felt a small hand slip into his pocket relieving him of the medallion.

"Dad," She said cooly, apparently unconcerned by the corpse that was slouched in a chair in the middle of the room and the large claw marks in the woodwork. "I'm going. I'll be in touch. Sam," She rounded on him and Sam recoiled. "Don't be an idiot."

She vanished and Sam got to his feet, sighing. The back of his hand stung where she'd dug in her fingernails and….

"Wait…" He stared at the corpse. "Is that Brady?"

"Not important," Dean deflected. "We got a lead. Let's focus on that."

* * *

"Dad, what happened?"

Crowley was slouched in his favorite armchair, a large glass of whiskey in one hand and a block of tablet in the other. Hermione couldn't tell if this was stress eating or relief eating.

"Apocalypse is over." He murmured, staring into the fire. "Angels are havin' a bloody civil war."

"And the Winchesters?" She asked, afraid of the answer.

"Sam took the long fall for the greater good." Crowley's lip curled. "'Bout the most useful thing the moron ever did."

"Right," Hermione said faintly. "I'm just going to go check on my library."

She wasn't surprised, but that was heroes for you. Always getting themselves killed. She should have known better than to get attached.


	4. Chapter 4

"You heard about Sam Winchester, I take it?"

Hermione glared at the bag of chocolate until it was removed from the vicinity of her books.

"I thought you were dead," She complained to the room at large.

Loki shrugged.

"Gabriel is. For the most part. But there was enough belief hanging around that I stuck around." He grinned at her. "Never thought I'd be thankful for superhero movies."

"I don't know," Bela chimed in from several shelves away. "I think Tom Hiddleston is giving people an unreal expectation of you."

Loki's eyes narrowed.

"Why are you here?" Hermione asked, desperate to keep the violence to a minimum.

"Us celestial oddities have to stick together," He crunched a malteser. "Besides I wanted to know if you'd heard about Sam."

"He's in the Cage," Hermione snapped. "I know."

Loki grinned at her.

"No," He teased. "He's not."

* * *

Hermione's jaw dropped open. Bela helpfully pushed it back up again with a finger.

"He's alive." She breathed, staring in wonder.

"Yeahp."

They were staring out the windscreen of Bela's obscene sportscar, at the very much not-dead Sam Winchester, who was leaning against the wall of a coffee shop watching the street through narrowed suspicious eyes.

"He looks good," Bela added.

Hermione flushed.

"Shut up." She grumbled. Bela had a point, she admitted internally. Sam seemed to have grown again, towering over the street.

"Soooooo…." Loki drawled from the back seat. "Are you gonna go talk to him?"

Hermione had the sinking feeling that if she didn't, Loki might just teleport her over there, or handcuff her to him or something equally awful.

"Fine." She got out of the car and, cautiously, made her way across the street, ignoring the fact Bela and Loki had both reached for binoculars.

Sam spotted her when she was about five feet from him, pinning her with that serious gaze. Hermione felt her stomach drop. Those eyes, usually so full of life and curiosity and the sheer misery that a life full of tragedy accumulated, were blank. Sure they crinkled in the right places as he smiled at her, a welcoming and pleased expression coming across his face. But that dark voice in the back of her head, the voice that had laughed when she'd unleashed the centaur herd on Umbridge, hissed, " _Empty_!" and Hermione just knew.

"Sam," She managed, trying to smile back when everything instinct she had was telling her to run. "How're you?"

"Hermione!" Sam hugged her tightly, and for a second she let herself pretend that there was nothing wrong. "How're you?"

"I'm fine. I've..." She swallowed and took a step away. Sam's expression changed immediately to wariness and suspicion. He knew something was wrong with him then. And he didn't want anyone else to find out.

"Hermione…" Sam called in warning.

A childhood of warfare and demonic politics had honed her reflexes to a sharp point and she was already twisting out of reach as Sam… as the thing that wasn't Sam, tried to grab her wrist.

The was a screech of rubber as Bela hauled the convertible around the road and flung open the passenger seat door.

"Don't." Sam snapped, looking between the tinted windows of the car and Hermione. "Look, just talk to me."

Hermione's eyes flickered black, she couldn't help it.

"Hell no." She spat and dove into the car.

* * *

"So," Loki drawled after Hermione had explained what she had or _hadn't_ seen. "Now what?"

Hermione looked from her employee to her...freeloader.

"Now, we go see my father. He's got some explaining to do."

* * *

Crowley's secretary, a terrifying human from New Jersey who was actually tougher than the majority of his demonic staff, tried to bar Hermione's way, but Hermione had enough demonic clout to just wave her aside. Flanked by Loki and Bela she burst into her father's office and stopped short.

"Is that an angel?" She demanded, horrified.

The angel in question, a man with dark hair and a presence that made Hermione's inner demon quake in fear, stared back at her, startled.

"Who is this?" He demanded of Crowley.

Her father sighed heavily, looking stressed.

"Hermione, darling what are you doing here?" He glared at Loki. "And what is _he_ doing here?"

"He's my friend," Hermione answered reproachfully and, with some horror she realised, truthfully. "And I'm looking for answers. You'll never guess which hunter I ran into today." She snapped at him.

Crowley cast his eyes heavenward.

"Right. Fine. Hermione this is Castiel, the Winchester's pet angel." The Angel's eyes narrowed dangerously and Crowley hurried on. "Castiel, this is my daughter, Hermione."

"Gabriel." The angel...Castiel stared at the being standing behind Hermione's shoulder.

"Loki." The being corrected icily.

Castiel looked at Hermione.

"You are not entirely a demon." He declared and then vanished with a flap of those massive coal black wings.

"What is going on, Dad?" Hermione yelled.

What was going on was this. Castiel had brought Sam back from the Cage but wasn't aware that he'd left his soul behind. Angel's couldn't see souls in the same way that demons could. So Crowley had employed him, Sam that was, with his own personal group of hunters in order to keep him out of the way and out of trouble. While Crowley was generously helping Castiel with his little civil war problem.

"Out of the goodness of your own heart?" Hermione stared at him disbelievingly. "You honestly think I'll believe that?"

Crowley radiated innocence.

"I figure after all we've gone through I owe Castiel a freebie and…"

"Save it." Hermione sighed. "I'll stay out of it, but you need to work out how to get Sam's soul out of the Cage." Crowley winced. "You can't leave him down there. Not just because it's cruel." She narrowed, "But because Dean is going to find out eventually, and I know that the last thing you want is Dean Winchester storming Hell to find the one responsible."

* * *

"And the result of that was…" Bela pulled away from Crowley's compound and headed in the general direction of Hermione's library.

"Dad's getting mixed up in something dangerous," Hermione admitted darkly. "I've got a new job for you, Bela."

"Tail Sam Winchester and make sure he doesn't get into any major trouble." Bela finished for her. "I'll head out once I've dropped you back home and made sure the defenses are up. Loki, can you look over the wards for me? I want to make sure she's safe on her own."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Bela saw enemies around every corner.

"Thank you. Loki, if you're interested in helping, I need gossip. Dad and that angel are up to something big and I need to know what."

"And what are you going to do?" Bela asked as she willfully ignored the speed limit.

Hermione sighed.

"I'm going to work out how to get Sam's soul out of the cage because I'm pretty sure that Dad has no idea."

Loki giggled gleefully.

"And we're doing all this _without_ your dad figuring out what we're up to?"

"That's the plan."

* * *

Whatever it was Sam had gotten involved in, it wasn't good. Hermione leafed through Bela's latest report with a distinct feeling of nervousness. For some reason, he was wandering around with his dead grandfather and his cousins, steadily hunting more and more dangerous creatures.

The monster world, Loki assured her on his irregular visits, was in an uproar, acting up in the worst way possible.

Something big was going on and Hermione intended to find out what.

* * *

It was a quiet afternoon when it happened. Several months after the confrontation with her father, Bela had been pulled off Sam surveillance because Dean had finally been reunited with her brother and watching two Winchesters was just too much risk. Hermione had just reached for the next book out of a crate that had just been delivered when she felt it, a horrible burning hook behind her heart, like a portkey but so much more awful. She screamed causing Bela to pelt around the corner of the aisle, gun drawn and scanning for danger as Hermione felt her grip on corporeality loosen and she was wrenched from her library.

She was forced back into consciousness by a shock of cold water as someone emptied a bucket over her head. Looking up through her sopping curls, Hermione stared at the old man in the baseball cap, who stared back at her, equally surprised.

"Er…" He said.

She rolled over and fought the urge to vomit. Whatever it was that had brought her here wasn't pleasant and she had no desire to revisit her breakfast.

"Can I help you?" She managed hoarsely. Bela was probably worried sick, she thought absently as she struggled to sit up properly.

"Err…" Said the man. "Are you Hermione?"

Hermione took careful stock of the rosary clasped in his left hand, the Devil's Trap on the floor and the large shotgun and decided not to answer.

"Who are you?" She asked instead, making sure she didn't move outside of the Trap. No need for this hunter to know it wouldn't work on her.

"Bobby Singer," The man answered gruffly. He seemed to be waiting for something so she shrugged, nonplussed. "Huh. Word is, you're the demon in the know when it comes to Crowley."

Hermione wondered which Crossroads demon had ratted her out.

"I'm not a demon," She corrected quietly.

"Yeah, the Holy Water kinda clued me into that. What the hell are you?"

Hermione sighed heavily and stood up, fighting off the wave of dizziness that caused.

"That's a bit personal," She muttered reproachfully. "Why are after information about Crowley?"

Singer narrowed his eyes.

"He's got somethin' of mine, I want back."

Hermione took a long look at him, closing one eye to better focus on the intangible.

"Your soul. Let me guess," She rubbed at her temples. "He said he'd make a good attempt or something like that." Singer's jaw clenched and she nodded. "Well, your best bet is to find some decent leverage. Something he cares about more than annoying you." She frowned. "Whoever you are."

Mr. Singer shifted uneasily and she sighed.

"Right, _I'm_ the leverage. Excellent."

"You tell me what you know about Crowley or I'll…"

"Shoot me?" Hermione finished for him doubtfully. "It wouldn't be a good idea. If you actually managed to kill me, I imagine he'd drag you down to hell himself, ten-year contract be damned." She sighed heavily. "Look I've got things to be doing and dealing with this problem through me is the worst way to go about it. I really can't help you."

There was a crash from upstairs and Hermione took the opportunity as Mr. Singer's back turned to disapparate.

* * *

"What the hell happened?" Bela demanded as Hermione collapsed onto the sofa.

"I _think_ ," Hermione breathed. "That someone tried to summon me. Of course that kind of thing normally only works on demonic souls, but as mine is still tied to my body, I guess it took the whole thing with me."

"How do we stop it happening again?"

Hermione stared at her employee and raised one eyebrow. She didn't know when Bela had started actually caring about Hermione's well being but it wasn't unwelcome.

"I haven't the foggiest idea. By the way, do you know someone called Bobby Singer?"

The look on Bela's face told her all she needed to know.

* * *

"Oh blimey," Hermione heaved onto the concrete and felt her eyes water as she gasped for breath. That wasn't any more pleasant the second time around.

"Er…" Said a deep voice behind her.

"I have an email address, you know," Hermione complained as she struggled to her feet. "There's no need for this nonsense," She turned and frowned.

"Dean?"

Dean Winchester winced at her, looking tired and on guard. Bobby Singer was standing next to him, keeping his shotgun trained on Hermione's head.

"I see you got your soul back, Mr Singer." It would explain why her father had been in such a foul mood the last time she'd seen him. Hermione wiped her hand across her chin and grimaced at the taste in her mouth. "Sorry about the floor, but this isn't exactly pleasant for me."

"Dean, you're sure this is Sam's friend?" Bobby snapped. "She's the demon I summoned to get info on Crowley. First one I met who was powerful enough to escape the damn trap."

"Yeah, this is her." Dean clenched his jaw and winced. "Look...it's Hermione right?"

Hermione stared at him and refrained from rolling her eyes.

"It's about Sam."

Her stomach lurched.

"Is he okay?" She asked, carelessly stepping out of the Devil's Trap. Singer jerked and Dean managed to knock the shotgun far enough aside that the shot blasted into the ceiling, showering Hermione in slivers of floorboards.

"Dammit, Bobby!" Dean roared. "You tryin' to piss her off?"

The older man shifted uneasily.

"Sorry," He grimaced apologetically. "Reflex."

After a brief bit of whispering, Singer vanished upstairs, leaving Dean and Hermione alone in the basement.

"So, Sam…" Dean started uneasily. He was clearly better at controlling his emotions than his brother. He was clearly angry but had a tight rein on it.

"You worked out that he didn't come back from Hell right?" Hermione asked bluntly.

"You knew!" Dean demanded.

She glared at him.

"Of course I knew." She snapped irritably. "Any demon can look at him and tell that body is empty. I've been doing some searching." Dean gaped at her and she stared back, wide-eyed. "Do you want my help or not? I've been researching it and the only things powerful enough to get his soul out of the cage are an Archangel and there aren't many of those left, or something much much older. That is, presuming, that you don't want to release Michael and Lucifer as well."

"What the…" Dean shook himself. "So wait I've been stuck doing your dad's dirty work looking for answers when you've known what to do this whole time?"

She shrugged.

"It's not like I have your phone number. And you should probably stop helping Dad. I've got no idea what he's mixed up in with that angel but it's nothing good. He can't help you get Sam's soul back," She paused. "That is what he promised you, yes?" Dean shifted uncomfortably. "He's not powerful enough." She got to her feet. "You need someone incredibly powerful. Know anyone like that?"

Dean paled and Hermione took that as a yes.

"Good. Now if you excuse me, I have to be going, my bodyguard will be going spare." She passed him a business card with her email on it. "Please don't summon me like that again."

* * *

Hermione sat on the edge of the small bed watching the occupant wake up. She hadn't thought Dean would actually email her, but she was glad to receive the summons to "make sure Sammy was actually in there".

An assurance she intended to give as soon as Sam woke up. It was as obvious to her that Sam's soul was finally reunited with his body as it was that Dean's had been to Hell and back via an angel. The grace leaking out of that poor man…

"You look like an angel…"

She looked down at Sam who was gazing up at her through bleary eyes.

"Wrong side I'm afraid, Sam," She smiled down at him. "It's good to see you're back with us."

Sam struggled upright.

"What's….What's going on? I was…" He frowned, looking lost. "I can't remember."

"Good." Hermione could hear the thud of feet up the staircase and started to move out the way. "Give me a call sometime, Sam. It'd be nice to catch up without all of this."

She moved aside to let Dean barrel into his brother and smiled faintly. Time for her to be off.


End file.
